The Unforgettable Touch of Silver
by MarigoldCarmen
Summary: Lukas Bondvik is an unfortunate soul, forced to leave his home and all he has known because of the Devil's trickery. Will he find someone to accept him and all his problems, or will he roam forever alone. M/M An original take on The Girl Without Hands.
1. Chapter 1

Hello, new story here! I'm not going to say much up here but there will be some more info at the bottom!

Hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I Disclaim

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Once upon a time, not that long ago in fact, there lived a baker. A simple man was he, uncaring of the riches of the world, content with his small bakery and the love of his beautiful expecting wife. Their home was a small town of Vardø in the grand country of Wyrona, known for its beauty and elegance, the baker took great pride in his country. Yet the winters were harsh, ice and snow plagued the land, quite often than not descending upon it and the villagers like a vast silvery beast, ready to wreak havoc. One year was particularly bad, the cold lasting longer, ruining the crops and harvest.

This is where our story starts.

For due to the harsh weather the young baker could harvest no grain and there would be no travelling traders to buy from, therefore no bread would be made, no bread sold and no money for the young baker or his beautiful expecting wife. Slowly, steadily they fell into a dire state of poverty, for the next eight harvests brought little to no yield, at the time of the second harvest the baker's wife bore a precious baby boy, with crystal blue eyes and rosy red cheeks. The baker wept in joy at his newly born son, yet he also wept in sorrow that he would not have the money to provide the best, as he would have wished.

Unsuccessful harvests came and went as years rolled by, the baker and his family succumbing to the clutches of poverty even more so. The couple lived with their six year old son in the empty husk of what used to be their home, void of possessions since they were sold long ago, the only thing remaining were the cloths on their backs, a small bag of wooden marbles owned by the child and a little wooden cart, used for moving around logs, kept out behind the ramshackle house in the yard.

One icy evening, during the baker's daily journey into the forest to gather fire wood he came across a beggar woman, hunched was her back and gnarled was the hand that reached out to him, looking for purchase. The baker, kind and humbled by the years of poverty and misfortune, instantly dropped the fire wood he had been cradling and clutched the woman's hand, supporting her weight. Once she had been steadied she spoke.

"I have been wandering for many days, and have had none but grass dew to drink, please do you have some water?"

The baker immediately seized the small leather flask containing the last of his water and handed it over to the beggar, she drank heartily then handed the flask back once she had been quenched.

"I have walked through storms and over mountains with nothing but worms and beetles to eat; please do you have some bread?"

The baker reached blindly into his crude cloth bag and fished out a small, slightly moldy chunk of bread, the best his wife could find for his lunch. Once again he handed it over to the woman and she gobbled it down eagerly.

"I have marched distances that no man would brave with old bones and no rest, please lend me your back to the edge of the forest?"

Without hesitation the baker turned and knelt on the damp dirty ground before the hag, she quickly scrambled on to his back and clung tightly. The baker rose and began towards the forest edge, towards his village.

Many hours later, when the sky was darkening, the baker and the woman arrived at the edge of the forest. As the woman dismounted she spoke again.

"You have been very generous, young man. But I must ask one more thing of you, and then I shall reward you for your kindness. I ask for what is resting behind your home, in the yard."

The naïve baker believed the hag was asking for his cart, for what else did he keep in the yard? So quickly agreed, he did not need a reward, he just wished to help the old woman. Yet before his eyes the old woman was no more, an enchanting and beautiful lady stood where the hag had once been, looking down upon the baker with malevolent golden eyes. Deep red hair, the colour of blood, swirled around her form. The young man realised too late that he was faced with the Devil.

She smiled, "Your generosity shall be repaid in kind, everything you willingly gave to me shall be returned in wealth. However, I shall come back and claim what is rightfully mine in ten years."

With that she turned and strode back into the forest, the shadows bending as if to call her to them.

The baker slowly looked down to find that the cloths on his back were no longer rags but made of the finest linens, intricate designs and delicate stitching laced its way over the soft material. Quickly the baker turned to his bag, which was now leather, and looked inside. Where there were once moldy bread crumbs now sat ripened fruits, dried meats and cheeses all packed into the small satchel. He took a swig from his previously drained flask only to find it filled with sweet tasting wine.

The baker ran home quickly, full of joy and happiness, but what he found was not what he left. The previously desolate home was now rebuilt, full of life, gold and possessions that they had sold, his wife standing in the doorway in a beautiful dress looking bewildered. The baker joyously retold his tale to her but haltered as she grew pale and wept. When he ask what worried her so she grew silent, she slowly took his hand and lead him out into the courtyard without a word, and what he saw broke his heart.

Resting peacefully unawares behind the cottage, in the courtyard was the baker's young son, curled up in the little cart, surrounded by a field of Saxifrage, Anemone and Baby's Breath with one single bright yellow Daffodil clutched tightly against a small chest in tiny little fists.

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Please Review!

**Places:**

Norway=Wyrona - Y-row-nah

**Meaning of the flowers: **

Anemone- indicates fading hope and a feeling of having been forsaken. On a positive note it symbolizes anticipation.

Gypsophilla– innocence purity of heart

A single daffodil foretells a misfortune

Saxifrage -National flower of Norway

Thankyou.


	2. Chapter 2

Hello! Long time no see... sorry about that but the first term of Uni has been a b*tch, such is life. You were warned of late updates but they shouldn't all be this late, hopefully.

So this was supposed to be one chapter but it was to long so I split it into two, but you get both in one night to make up for my horrible timing!

Anyway extra stuff and info etc is at end of page!

Disclaimer: I Disclaim

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Steel blue eyes fluttered open as a small splash interrupted the peaceful gurgling of a nearby brook, sunlight delicately weaving its way in and amongst the leaves of towering trees causing dancing patterns of light to flitter across smooth, pale skin. A sweet and joyful bird's song could be heard on the wind, singing harmoniously with the whispering of the grass and the tittering of the fairies. The young man resting in the clearing sighed contentedly, at peace with the world, until a strange unnatural noise floated by making him frown and tilt his head to hear better.

"…uu…ka…lu…"

'What is that screeching? It sounds like the call of a dying animal.'

"…s…uka…lukas…LUKAS! Where are you boy! I need your help, NOW! "

Oh, so that's what it was.

Lukas sighed again but this time in exasperation, slowly rising onto his elbows with effort and gazing flatly over in the direction of his Mothers squawking voice as she traipsed through the undergrowth to reach her eldest son, bearing down at him with a face like thunder, though her eyes betrayed the worry she felt.

"_What_ are you _doing _out here? We tell you _time and time again_ not to leave the village, but will you listen to me child? NO, you go _swanning_ off to only _the Gods_ know where _without telling anyone_!"

Lukas was silent, listening dutifully to his Mothers rant without batting an eyelid. He had heard the same thing before, over and over. It was always the same ever since he was little, it never changed, his parents forbid him from leaving, he would leave, they would find him a few hours later in the forest or the field lying down, just listening to nature, they would yell, take him home and it would repeat a few days later. When he was younger his parents had told him never to leave the village, at that time his childish mind had thought that to be practically imprisonment, but as he grew older and more birthdays past his parent became more and more paranoid. Now at the age of fifteen, with his sixteenth birthday tomorrow, he was forbidden to leave the house and he had to be in sight of his Mother or Father at all times, really, it was a miracle he had managed to escape this time.

His parents had never explained to him directly why the other children could play in the field but he couldn't, or why the other boys could attend the small courting bonfires the little town held but he couldn't, the never explained, but they didn't need to, Lukas had found out. He wasn't blind, nor dumb, he noticed the sadness in which his Mother and Farther dwelled in as of recent, he noticed the looks of pure sorrow and wretchedness that his Mother gave him when she thought his eyes were turned and he perceived the grief and remorse that seemed to follow his Father around where ever he went. He also overheard the teary and hushed conversations that his parents had at night, after all good children were in bed. It was one of these nights, as he listened to his Fathers many drunk, distraught apologies, that he overheard the reason for their protectiveness. He listened as they whispered about the Devils trickery and his Fathers mistake, about the deal and his fate, and all he had felt was determination. No fear held his heart captive.

Now with his sixteenth year starting the next morn, his parents were rabid with worry. It was his father's belief that if they kept him locked up in the safety of their house that the Devil would be unable to reach him. Lukas felt like some simple prisoner or one of those Maidens he hears about in old stories from the small Kingdom of Tanibir, all that was missing was a tower and dragon. Lukas knew better that to think that the imprisonment would keep him safe, that the walls of his home would repel the demon coming for him. Lukas knew better, so he had a backup plan, as it were. Sorcery.

Lukas had been secretly teaching himself magic for three years now, studying Ancient Lore and Devils. He knew that if he stayed pure the Devil could not touch him. So that's what he did.

Lukas was broken out of his silent thoughts once again by his mother's loud, shrill shriek,

"_Are you even listening to me?_"

He gazed up lethargically, lowly muttering a curt and untruthful "yes", he didn't need to listen to know what she had said, it was the same speech she gave every time he snuck out. He heard his mother sigh in exasperation as her eyes softened.

"Honestly, what am I to do with you?" a small smile twitched onto her lips, "My little wild child."

Lukas unintentionally allowed his mask of indifference to slip, his face adopting a horrified expression, '_Wild child!_', he was anything but! His mother let out a light laugh at her son, she had a pleasant laugh, one Lukas didn't get to her as often as he would have liked, it was a delicate tinkling sound, like bells and spring. For as much as he made his mother worry he truly did love her. Øydis was a short, stout woman with a cleaver mind and warm heart. Her laughter trailed off as her eldest son stood, brushing off the dust and dirt from his tunic and turning to face her.

"I don't like being holed up in that big house with the paranoid old man." He mumbled evenly.

Sighing, his mother cupped his face between her calloused palms as her bright sky blue eyes stared up, straight into his.

"I know my sweet, I know. But it's only until your birthday," she chuckled as her sombre look melted away, "after tomorrow you are free to spend all day in the woods!"

Lukas nodded silently, a shy smile pulling at his lips as he followed her back towards the village, there was an unspoken understanding between him and his mother, she was only too aware that her eldest son knew about the agreement between her miserable husband and the Devil, her youngest had probably been enlightened as well.

Both understood that there was no escape from the horrible fate bestowed upon the young man; however that did not stop them from trying to prevent the inevitable. No matter how much they stubbornly tried to keep the reality at bay, no amount of locked doors would dissuade the Devil.

They abruptly started to journey their way back towards the village, Lukas effortlessly climbing over rocks and slippery moss while his mother proudly marched on ahead, a confidence that was not matched in her grace as she stumbled and awkwardly scrambled over the muddy woodland terrain, eventually resorting to sticking her arms out in a vain attempt at balance. While Lukas admired his mother's determined attitude he did not wish for her to get hurt, she threw his a small sideward smile as he gingerly took her arm to lead her.

So focused was he on preventing his mother from slipping and dooming them both to a wet and muddy fate that he nearly missed the almost undetectable movement to his right, a slight stirring in the undergrowth that revealed a small amount of secretive little creatures watching him from behind trees and shrubbery.

He had noticed the peculiar behaviour of the forest's magical creatures towards him about a month ago. Commonly the little Gnomes, Trolls and Fair Folk continued on their business and for the better part ignored him when he entered their domain, their more primitive senses acknowledging his presence as peaceful and unthreatening. However recently they had been showing an unusual interest in the young Norwegian, observing him closely when he entered the forest and attempting to sneak closer to him when he rested only to scamper back quietly into their hiding places when he glanced their way. Well, that was true of the tiny Fairies and the sprightly Elves, not so much for the less delicate Trolls who tended to lumber away as fast as their bulky legs would carry them, often crushing flora and causing small, peaceful woodland creatures such as mice and rabbits to flee from the Trolls destructive path to save their tiny, furry lives.

Lukas had read in one of his many books that it was a sign of bad faith if the Fae took an interest in someone, it was rumoured to warn of bad tidings or drastic change, and given that his sixteenth year was looming on the horizon it made him more nervous than it would normally.

Slowly the small village that the Bondvik family resided in appeared over the small incline they were struggling up, rows of quaint grassy huts and longhouses were arranged in a half moon around a small pond in the centre of the settlement with a tiny rivulet running through, normally the bubbling, clear water was frozen thick, not even the flowing movement of the current able to prevent the frost from taking hold, however the seasons had been particularly merciful, the hold of Skaði had weakened, the expected biting cold and grey skies had receded and the warmth from the sun was welcomed, melting the silvery ice and allowing small children to splash around in the cool water. The great goddess Sol had been merciful and kind to the small community.

The smell of bread and meats rose from the largest longhouse, this was their market of sorts, the women couldn't work from their homes due to the small size so they carried out their tasks and the men carried out their trades from the main 'hall', then in the evenings the entire village would have their meals at the large table in the centre. It was a different system to the other village but it worked well. Not that Lukas was allowed to attend the meals, he ate in the privacy of his home. They had taken to building their settlement similar to the more brutal Vikings that lived nearer the coast, the large longhouse built using the wood from the forest trees and grasses to thatch the roof. Smaller huts were built using stone then turf and mud to prevent the cold winds entering through the walls, the roofs had also been covered in turf and the grass allowed to grow to create more warmth. Little fenced off patches of land rested behind some of the more wealthy family homes, some holding crops and growing vegetables. The humble community was peaceful and fair, no man held a higher power than the other since no chief of the settlement had been established and they were protected from barbarians and Vikings by the forest.

A Lukas entered the village he noticed that sitting on the ground legs crossed was a slim young man supervising the playful youth, his large violet eyes trained intently on the children in the water, whilst making a valiant effort of ignoring the other three youngsters that had forgone the paddling and taken to playing and tugging at his silvery white hair.

Emil, Lukas's younger brother, was just fourteen years of age although his mother often commented that he had the wisdom of someone double his years. He was a reliable young man with a sharp mind and even sharper tongue if provoked. Unfortunately that quick mind had lead him to discovering his elder brother's secret.

Lukas allowed a small smile to grace his delicate face as his brother spotted him, immediately he gently untangled the young ones fingers from his hair and ushered them, along with the slightly soggier children, back to dryer land. He left them in the capable hands of some of the elderly women and trotted over towards his brother, waving to the children as he did so. Lukas would never admit it out loud but he had a soft spot for his brother, he saw such a vast future for him, a future that he failed to see for himself. Emil was his and his parent's second chance, as selfish as that sounded. When the morning came along with the devil, when Lukas was gone, Emil would still be there to carry on.

Lukas schooled his expression to one of indifference as his Emil reached him and his mother.

"The old man is angrier than a troll, hell is awaiting you for your return home." Emil announced conversationally, to anyone else he would have sounded uncaring, but Lukas could sense the worry. The brothers not only looked alike with the same delicate facial structure and lean bodies but were also similar in personality and soul, both stoic and seemingly cold outwardly but passion and kindness ran deep.

His mother interrupted his thoughts, "_Emil!_ Do not speak such things! Your Father-"

"Has taken too deep a draught of ale. Again."

Their mother stilled, eyes wide and slowly filling with understanding. It wasn't uncommon for the men of the village to drink, it was an important custom, one that was carried out every night when the villagers gathered to eat. However the Nordic men knew of the dangers it held, very few relished in so much ale that their wits abandoned them, the great god Óðinn himself warned against it.

_'A better burden no man can bear on the way than his mother wit: and no worse provision can he carry with him than too deep a draught of ale.'_ Those were the gods words, yet his father had forsaken the warning, all too often would he indulge in the 'deep draughts of ale' mentioned, from the morning to nightfall. Drinking transformed his father into a violent and hateful man, not only fighting with the other men of the village, which was common place among most men in the evenings, but also directing abuse towards his family, or more specifically Lukas. His father's guilt had strengthened his need to drink, the money had given him the means to drink and the ale had driven him to lash out at his eldest son. Lukas hated the man his father became under the temptation of ale, his only solitude being that Emil and his mother weren't included in his father's sorrows.

Sighing slightly Lukas began slowly traipsing towards his home, ignoring his mother's desperate cries urging him to wait, knowing all to well that they would not follow him, his mother had left their bakery unattended to fetch him from the forest and would not do so a second time, Emil was needed to lift heavy sacks of grain in his mother stead, she had become far too weak with age to do so herself. They also stayed back out of respect, Lukas was a man and men did not hide behind women and their younger brothers, it was shameful. They fought their own battles, even when the battles were one sided. Knowing that his mother and brother were safe he hastened his pace, wanting to put the inevitable beating behind his as quickly as possible.

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He found his father lounging over the wooden table centred in the middle of their home, an intricately carved silver bowl, presumably the only thing he could find, filled to the brim with the golden nectar was firmly in his grasp and surrounded by spilt liquid, the smell emanating from the man was rancid. He looked like a wounded beast, years of working in fields to gather grain and hauling large and heavy sacks around had given his father great strength and plenty of muscle, unfortunately those years had also brought guilt and bitterness causing his father to age terribly.

Although their home was larger than most it only had two sections, sheets of hide and leather separated where his parents slept and the rest of the abode, the open rooms meant that Lukas had nowhere to hide. He silently stood in the doorway, his back rigid and tense from desperately trying to stay as still as humanly possible, waiting for his father to respond.

Slowly Brynjar Bondvik raised his head, blood shot ice blue eyes stared out from beneath his long, mattered wheat blond hair, his large, wiry beard was sodden with ale and his head swayed precariously, as if any sudden movement would send it rolling off his shoulders and across the wicker matts that covered floor, Lukas could only hope. The young Norwegian swallowed the excess spittle that had gathered on his tongue, through the haze of his panic stricken mind he managed to feel mildly surprised that he wasn't frothing at the mouth like a threatened wild animal. He watched with wide, terrified eyes as his father stumbled to his feet shakily, knocking over the small wooden stool he had been sitting on and attempted to hobble over to him in a straight line. The sight in any other situation would have been quite humorous to Lukas, had he not been nearly pissing himself with fright.

"Where've you been, _boy?_" Lukas stayed quiet, not daring to say a word.

His father's brows furrowed, as though confused as he again stumbled forward.

"…me…_Answer me!_" His father lashed out, the swing catching Lukas lightly on the cheek, the man was to inebriated to put any real strength behind the hit, though emotionally it still hurt.

"What did...you…_me_…_me_ tell you_, boy?_" Brynjar let out a sort of roar, causing Lukas to flinch and try to meld his body to the wall behind him.

_"Not. To. LEAVE!" _Once again Lukas flinched, letting out an involuntary whimper as he bowed his head, mentally scolding himself for being so weak he forced his head up, making his teary eyes meet his fathers. As soon as he did regret immediately surged through him, his blood freezing in his veins, his father's eyes were livid, burning bitter blue orbs glared out from his enraged expression.

"…you…done…_I_…what have _you_ done…_what have you DONE?"_

Brynjar Bondvik lurched and swung at his eldest son, catching Lukas fully in his stomach causing him to hunch forward, clutching at his hurting gut. Vaguely he could still hear his father muttering to himself like a mad man, asking Lukas what he had done, he didn't understand, he hadn't _done _anything.

Lukas gingerly straightened up, cautious not to jostle what were bound to be bruises. He raised his head just in time to see his father totter forward with a strange grunting noise. Lukas reacted on instinct throwing his arms out towards his stumbling father and catching him in his arms. He froze, his blood running cold as realisation of what he had just done hit him like Thor's hammer.

Lukas didn't know what to expect from the unpredictability that was his father, immediate and violent rejection was the first thought that shot though his mind, along with many others all equally brutal and painful, but nothing prepared him for what actually happened. His prideful and abusive father, of whom he had been terrified would knock him into next season just moments before, collapsed into his arms and sobbed, fat, salty tears ran down his ruddy cheeks dampening Lukas's scratchy woollen tunic, mumbled apologies were muffled and swallowed up by the gurgling cries of the distraught man.

Hesitantly Lukas raised his hand, a pinprick of irritation stabbed at the edge of his mind as he realised that he was shaking, and gently rested it on the shuddering man's back. Similar to how one would tame a wild animal he softly shushed his father, lowering them both down towards the floor whilst he continued to pet at the powerful man's back and head. He waited, his entire body tense, as his father fell into a fitful alcohol induced sleep.

That was how his Emil and his mother found him several hours later, back uncomfortably propped against the cold wall of their home, his father's head in his lap sound asleep. Lukas thought that the look of utter bewilderment and astonishment on his brother's face was almost worth the last few hours of emotional trauma and confusion, almost.

After Emil had recovered from his shock and had pulled himself together a bit he assisted Lukas in freeing the elder brothers legs from their father's meaty torso, although the help came far too late, Lukas had lost all feeling in them long before the other half of his family had arrived. He spent the time before their supper dramatically punching his legs in a crude attempt to revive the currently useless limbs. Once his legs had been restored to their original state of feeling he and his younger brother made a valiant, if ungainly attempt of dragging their father to his bed. This proved quite the task when taking into account the hulking size and substantial weight of Brynjar Bondvik, the result being some awkwardly placed hands, a few bruises, on both the young men and their hefty load, two sweaty teenagers and eventually one bulky, drunk and emotionally unstable Norwegian man sprawled out on his blankets and furs. Lukas and Emil stood back to admire their hard work, both acknowledging the silent agreement to ignore the fact that they had lain the man the wrong way round and that both his left arm and leg were dangling over the edge, the weight of the muscle and sinew threatening to drag the rest of the man over at any second.

Supper was a silent affair, the atmosphere thick with tension as the sun drew lower in the sky, Lukas found himself glaring balefully at the golden globe, praying to the great god Dellingr that he would refuse his duties just this once. Then praying to whatever god that would listen that Skinfaxi would be lost to Dagr the next morning. He asked the goddess Nótt to continue her journey across the skies into the day, preventing dawn and he pleaded the god Forseti to protect him from the Devil.

As darkness swept across the sky the family receded for the night, there were no dramatics or teary goodbyes, only grim acceptance and quiet determination. His family had always been prepared for this day and Lukas himself was prepared for the worst. Soundlessly he resigned to his bed across from Emil's, he curled into the foetal position and turned away from his brothers forlorn violet eyes, facing the cold, solid wall of their home and pulling the cloths and furs that he swaddled himself in every night further up around him, trying bitterly to keep out the biting chill.

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That night Lukas dreamed of lonely Kings, of Devils and of daffodils. He dreamed of fairies, goblins, imps and trolls, of a shimmering figure and for once he felt safe. For once Lukas slept a sound sleep.

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**Guess what...Its officially my birthday! So please review!**

**Places:**

Britain =Tanibir

**Names:**( tried to represent characters through their names)

Øydis - good fortune, goddess.

Brynjar - armour, warrior.

**Gods: **

Óðinn - Ruler of all gods

Nott and Hrimfaxi - Goddess of Night and her flying horse

Dagr and Skinfaxi - God of Day and his flying horse

Dellingr - God of Dawn

Skaði - Goddess of Winter

Sol - Goddess of Sun

Forseti - God of Justice, Peace and Truth

**Translation:**I think, google translate isn't 100% so... if its wrong please feel free to correct me!

"Du som jeg tjener, beskytt meg, vann, jordbrann, vind, oppstigning mot mine fiender og forbyr inngang inn i mitt domene, forby skade til meg, tre er all kan, beskytt meg av ren kropp og ånd mens jeg forblir som slik!"

You whom I serve, protect me, water, earth fire, air, ascent towards my enemies and prohibiting entrance into my domain, prohibiting harm to me, three is all you can, protect me of pure body and spirit while I remain as such!

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I think that's everything ... I'm not sure the drunk rant is very clear, its supposed to be that he is outwardly blaming Lukas but deep down blames himself, so when he speaks he is getting mixed up, I hope this helps, I didn't want to make him a complete villain!

Spelling should be fine but FF keeps trying to change it to American English ¬.¬ ... I don't think so...

Any questions please ask, next chapter will be up shortly!


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry guys I put the translation on the wrong chapter! Its for this one not the last.

Disclaimer: I Disclaim

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His home was still silent when Lukas awoke, the sky a deep shade of indigo letting him know that Nótt and Hrímfaxi were still in flight and that Dellingr has yet to rise. Briefly Lukas wondered if his prayers had been answered but quickly dismissed the thought, he could already hear the birds in the woods calling for the morning, a sure sign that Dagr was on his way bringing the day with him.

As quietly as he could Lukas untangled his legs and arms from the many fabrics he had somehow managed to cocoon himself in during the night. Once he was free of his bedding he redressed himself in the warmest tunic he owned, thick hide boots stuffed with cloth and worn over warm furs around his feet and lower legs and finally his winter cloak made from coarse, thick wool and soft furs that lined the hood and edges. Lastly he pinned his cloak together with a small bronze pin, the unassuming trinket depicted a dragon coiled tightly in an intricate design over the little metal disc. Lukas took pride in the brooch, it was a piece of family jewellery and had originally belonged to his father's father, Varg Bondvik. It was the only material possession that they owned that wasn't tainted with the Devils magic, so he would take it with him as a small comfort.

He made his way outside via the back exit, picking up a small wooden pail as he did so. Shivering slightly from the bitter cold as he closed the thick wooden door behind himself and marching with false bravado into the centre of the yard. Lukas was determined not to show any weakness, he would not permit the cruel fear coursing through his veins to grace his face, not even for a split second. So assuming a stony expression he started his work.

At the end of their tiny yard were large blocks of stone driven into the hard ground to form makeshift markers around their land, Lukas approached them hastily knowing that he didn't have long. Each was about the length of his forearm and he would only need seven to complete the circle, but they were heavy and moving them was sluggish and trying work. Eventually Lukas had them set on the cold ground in a shape similar enough to a circle, next an offering was needed. Quickly he turned and grabbed the pail darting out of the yard and dashing the short distance to the small beck in the centre of the settlement, plunging the vessel into the icy water and gasping as the frigid water lapped at his hands. Lukas erratically heaved the bucket out, every intention of turning and hurriedly running back towards his home, if not for something that caught his eye. A small distance away at the edge of the trees was a tiny horde of creatures, of both legend and fact, eyes of every size and colour were focused on him, not blinking, not moving, just staring. It unnerved him, unable to turn away he gazed back, confusion and fear bubbling in his mind.

Then it was broken. Somewhere in the distance a bird called loudly, startling Lukas out of the strange enchantment that seemed to befall him only moments ago, with one last look to the creatures he turned and fled, all but flying back towards his protective circle. As he once again entered the yard he noticed that the sky was lightening, the deep indigo of Nótt was being washed away and driven back by the bright blue of Dagr and the golden glow of Dellingr. Quickly he reached into the top of his boot only to reveal a simple looking knife, he had grabbed it from its place on the wall as he left the warmth of his home, it wasn't grand or even particularly well made, but it would do its job well.

Lukas stood himself at the edge of the circle, facing the rising sun and held his hand above the centre of the small stony domain, hesitantly he raised the knife above the palm of his hand not keen on inflicting pain upon himself. He took a deep breath, screwing his eyes shut tight as if it would block out the inevitable hurt as he brought the knife down, running a long gash down the middle of his hand. Although the cut was shallow it stung, a small amount of crimson blood started to pool around the cut, Lukas tipped his hand allowing a small trickle of the life liquid to spatter onto the ground. Satisfied with the offering he bent down towards the pail of water he had collected, thoroughly washing his hands and wrapping the injured one in some scrap cloth once it had ceased bleeding.

Standing Lukas splayed both his hands above the circle and recited his incantation, gradually feeling the flow of power increase through his veins, body throbbing and fingers tingling with energy, he let his voice rise in volume, higher and higher, his magic calling on the Earth for protection.

_"Du som jeg tjener, beskytt meg, vann, jordbrann, vind, oppstigning mot mine fiender og forbyr inngang inn i mitt domene, forby skade til meg, tre er all kan, beskytt meg av ren kropp og ånd mens jeg forblir som slik!" _

Gingerly he moved to stand inside his small 'domain', just big enough for him to sit in comfortably which is exactly what he did, heaving a large sigh and slumping ungracefully onto the cold dirt in relief. He had done it, and just in time. Then all there was to do, was to wait.

And wait Lukas did, he waited as Dellingr awoke and Dagr relived Nótt of the Goddesses duties. He waited as the bird song rose louder as more and more of the little feathered beasts awoke, eager and happy to sing their morning chorus to anybody that would listen, Lukas was grateful to them as their melody lightened his heart a small amount, his fear melted away as he lost himself to the peacefulness of nature, there was a cool breeze coming from the west where the vast ocean lied a far distance away, the warm morning sun was warming his face and neck, Lukas watched as it slowly melted the frost that had fallen on the patches of vibrant green grass leaving little drops of dew to sparkle and glint.

Eventually his brother, Emil, groggily awoke and emerged sourly from their home, he was never one for mornings. Emil had wrapped himself up warmly in a multitude of furs and blankets and had stumbled over towards his brother with a sleep hazed mind and wobbly legs, the sight vaguely reminded Lukas of a new born bear cub trying to take its first steps, he had to consciously stop the small chuckle that bubbled up in his throat at the scene. He then noticed that in his little brother's arms was another, smaller bundle. Emil plodded over and flopped down on the ground next to Lukas, careful to avoid the small stony domain and handed him the lesser pile of furs and blankets with a solemn, but sleepy expression. Lukas thanked him and wrapped the blankets around his shoulders.

They sat that way for a fair while, long enough for them both to notice the frantic movement of their mother as she searched their beds before bursting out through the back door, only to calm when she saw them together, safe. Lukas also observed his father, hanging back near the door, obviously not ready to face his sons, not when sober at least.

Lukas prepared himself for more nagging from his mother, Øydis Bondvik, for being outside _again_ when she paused eyes wide and fearful.

He had noticed it to, the sudden drop in temperature and the thick, almost suffocating atmosphere. Lukas rigidly turned his head towards the woman that hadn't been standing there just a few seconds ago, he was slightly taken aback by how stunningly beautiful the dreadful monster presented to him was, her long deep red hair and bright golden contrasting vividly with her pale, slightly blue tinged skin, then the Devil smiled. Two rows of blackened gums barely supporting rotten teeth of the same colour grinned at Lukas from behind perfectly plump lips as he recoiled back, shocked and disgusted. She blatantly found him amusing since she started to cackle, bloody saliva and bits of things Lukas couldn't deduce spat from her mouth, burning and cracking the ground it landed on.

Lukas looked away towards his family, his mother clutching at Emil as if to protect the boy, trying to hide his face as his wide eyes stared in terror at the demon come to take his brother. His father had not moved, his face ashen and terrified as he stared, unblinking, at the monstrous woman.

Lukas turned back reluctantly to look upon his fate, and most probably his demise, as the shrill laugher died. The Devil locked her otherworldly yellow eyes with Lukas's fearfully resigned steely blue ones, her lips curled up in a sinister lopsided grin as she spoke, the sound of her voice was like precious jewels clinking against a dead man's bones. Light, beautiful and viciously cruel.

_"Time has ran out, my little daffodil."_

* * *

**Nickname:**

A single daffodil fortells misfortune, hence the nickname for Lukas from the devil.

**Names:**( tried to represent characters through their names)

Øydis - good fortune, goddess.

Brynjar - armour, warrior.

**Gods:**

Nott and Hrimfaxi - Goddess of Night and her flying horse

Dagr and Skinfaxi - God of Day and his flying horse

Dellingr - God of Dawn

**Translation:**I think, google translate isn't 100% so... if its wrong please feel free to correct me!

"Du som jeg tjener, beskytt meg, vann, jordbrann, vind, oppstigning mot mine fiender og forbyr inngang inn i mitt domene, forby skade til meg, tre er all kan, beskytt meg av ren kropp og ånd mens jeg forblir som slik!"

You whom I serve, protect me, water, earth fire, air, ascent towards my enemies and prohibiting entrance into my domain, prohibiting harm to me, three is all you can, protect me of pure body and spirit while I remain as such!

_Please Review!_


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